


Long Con

by madness_on_the_milano



Series: Nadadel [20]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Blushing, Crushes, Cute, Don't Expect Me To Believe Dís and Glóin Aren't BFFs, Dís Is As Cunning As Her Sons, F/M, in a good way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-04-19 08:58:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14233821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madness_on_the_milano/pseuds/madness_on_the_milano





	Long Con

 

"-You're not my mother, Thorin!"

"-Namadith..."

"I am old enough to meet other people by myself, you ogre!"

"I think our lady Dís and Thorin are having a disagreement," Balin muses aloud.

He is soon proved right as the heavy stone doors swing open and out the princess storms, providing a glimpse of her brother who is running a hand wearily over his face. Dís turns a bit, puffs herself up and bellows; "Nearly all of our race is male! How come _you_ get loads of friends and I don't, just because _I_ haven't got a cock?!"

Glóin steps away as she strides toward them. Dwalin steps behind Balin, who smiles brightly at Dís as she stops in front of him, visibly seething. "Hello, cousin. How are you today?"

_"Men!"_

"I see." Balin gestures to Glóin. "Look, our youngest cousin is here for the day."

"What did he do so wrong that you've decided to punish him like this?" Dís suddenly takes his hand. "On the chance you produce any daughters, I have a few lessons on women for you, seeing as _some people_ know nothing about them. Come on!"

 He doesn't dare speak as she educates him on how any dwarrowdam could take a dwarrow on and how big brothers are precisely the worst people when it comes to their little sisters and when she finally ends her tirade, she takes him into what he can only assume is her room. It's not a lot bigger than Amad and Adad's, but it has a fireplace and the bed has a real wolfskin rug over it.

"It's so difficult being a woman when you're surrounded by overprotective Dwarf-men."

"What about your amad?"

Dís bites her lip. "She's mad," she says matter-of-factly. "It sent her mad when she learned we lost Frerin. It would send me mad, too, losing a son."

"I'm sorry. I didn't-"

Dís touches his shoulder. "Not many people know. Don't worry yourself."

"Why were you and Thorin arguing?"

"Because I wanted to meet up with someone and he insisted I take a chaperone."

"I could be your chaperone if you wanted." Glóin offers. If nothing else, it will make up for his mistake about Queen Sígny.

The corners of Dís' mouth twitch and turn into a smile. "Well, he didn't specify age. Come on, but we have to be careful not to be caught!"

* * *

By some miracle, no one sees them and his fiery cousin visibly melts at the person she finds in the confines of the apple orchard. They hold hands and rub noses. He's light-skinned with hair like spun gold and autumnal eyes. It's clear from the way he looks at Dís that he thinks very, very highly of her. For a split second, he sees his mother greeting his father after a day in the mines, but it's a trick played by wishful memories and he is soon brought back to the present.

"Fí? I thought you said we were going apple-picking!"

"Who is that?" Dís asks, peering suspiciously at the Dwarf. "Fíach, if you've brought your mother along, I will hit the roof."

It's no one's mother. It's Neoma, but she doesn't notice Glóin as she appears out of the trees, a basket in her hand and a scowl on her face. She points an accusing finger at Fíach. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Now, now, look..." Fíach holds up his hands and steps toward her. "Look, I had to get someone to vouch for my whereabouts, so I thought-"

"I know exactly what you thought! You thought you'd tell a lie to my da! He's going to give you such a walloping, you won't be able to sit for a month!"

Fíach looks mortified, especially when Dís starts to giggle behind her hand. "He will _not_ because he won't find out that he's been lied to because _you're_ going to keep this little secret for me. Neoma, I promise when you find a boy you like, I will chaperone you and keep a distance, so you can hug and hold hands instead of holding a polite, boring conversation. _Please!"_

"You're a pain in the arse. And I don't know what a chaperone even is."

"Nobody really does. Look, why not choose some really scrumptious apples with, er, with Dís' chaperone and when you're done, we'll head our separate ways?"

"His name is Glóin, he's my cousin."

 Glóin doesn't know if it's just his imagination, but Neoma's cheeks suddenly look pinker. She gives Fíach a final withering look and watches as both he and Dís slink off into the shadows. "Sorry about that. Now he's all loved up, I don't get much time with him any more."

"It's no problem."

Neoma sets the basket on the ground and gently nudges him. "There's a brook closeby. Do you want to sit by it for a while?"

"That sounds good." He manages to keep walking beside her as she goes north. "I've got to be honest, I didn't think you could just pick the apples."

"You can't, but Da can't get angry about us doing it - it was him who first took us apple-picking here fifty years ago!"

"You're joking!" He sits with her on a flat rock which overlooks the brook in question, a thin ribbon of winding silvery water. "Is Fíach your cousin?"

"No. Family friend, but he's as good as a brother. His mother had him very late in life and needed all the help she could get to raise him, so Mammy and Da stepped in."

"What about his own da?"

"His father didn't want children, so he cut out his marriage braid and took off."

"That's horrible!" Glóin exclaims.

Neoma nods and draws up her knees to hug them, looking into the horizon. For a while, she is quiet. "I wonder where that little boy is. Young Bâqil. Those people..." She catches sight of his bruising around his neck and blushes, her cheeks colouring red. "Mahal's name! I'm sorry."

"He'll be alright. No one would ever hurt a Dwarfling, would they? I'm sure he'll be home with his mammy and sister soon enough." Glóin places his hand on the middle of her back and lets his eyes drift over the threads of red, gold, bronze and light brown that make up her hair. Suddenly, her hand is on his back too and they stay held together in this strange embrace for some time. "Were we friends as children? You seem so familiar."

"I've been thinking that too, but I'm sure we didn't know each other as little ones."

"Can we, um...do you think we could meet again? I like seeing you." As he speaks, he can feel his face warming and hopes he won't blush so much he might scare her away.

"I'd like that as well. Do you want to meet back here tomorrow?"

Unable to confine his eagerness, Glóin smiles at her. "Noon?"

"Noon." 

 

 


End file.
